The Immigrant
by onelildustbunni
Summary: Waking up in a new world with no memory, she learns nothing can stop her. Until she meets her old friends. X-23 and Hellion.
1. Chapter 1

****TITLE: ****The Immigrant**  
><strong>STARRING: <strong>**Hellion and X-23**  
><strong>UNIVERSE: <strong>**AU**  
><strong>RATING: <strong>**NC-17**  
><strong>SUMMARY:<strong>** Waking up in a new world with no memory, she learns nothing can stop her. Until she meets her old friends. X-23 and Hellion.  
><strong>DISCLAIMER: <strong>Includes lyrics from NIN and Karen O's remake of Led Zeppelin's 'The Immigrant Song'- it's the song off the soundtrack of the new 'Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' movie.

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><p><strong>THE <strong>**IMMIGRANT**

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><p><em>We come from the land of the ice and snow...from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow...<br>__the hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands...__to fight the horde and sing and cry...Valhalla, I am coming_

_On we sweep with threshing oar...our only goal will be the western shore_

_We come from the land of the ice and snow...from the midnight sun where the hot springs flow...  
>how soft your fields, so green can whisper tales of gore, <em>_of how we calmed the tides of war...  
>we are your overlords...on we sweep with threshing oar...our only goal will be the western shore<em>

_So now you better stop and rebuild all your ruins...for peace and trust can win the day...despite of all you're losing  
>(Immigrant song, NINKaren O. remake of Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song) _

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><p><strong>-1-<strong>

The pale-faced girl looked out of the window of the bus at the slowly falling snowflakes, her expression calm and accepting. In her lap is a letter that has been folded and re-folded many times-a letter written on ruled notepaper. Fragile, easily destroyed.

Behind the letter is an envelope , and on this envelope-in loopy, backwards-slanted writing-is an return address that she has contemplated many times.

_James Logan Howlett_

The reason she has contemplated the address many times is because there _is_ none, only the address of her PO box, located in Seattle. The letter doesn't offer much clue either to its location of origin.

She looks down at her lap and unfolds it again, her dark-painted lips turning downward at the corners.

_You've got questions, and I've got answers._

_Come and find me._

Two lines, two lines that has set fire to her mind. _Answers. _Something she has been seeking desperately for the last five years since her escape from...what?

All she can remember of her past is waking up on a bench near a bus station, shivering and hungry.

It had been snowing then, too. Much harder than here. She remembers the icicles clinging to the edge of the bench covering, the cold air stinging the end of her nose. How it had taken a very long time for her to thaw out again, and her fear that she would get frostbite.

Odd-she could remember what frostbite was, but not who she was or where she'd come from.

She looks out the window again, and watches the snow drift down.

Soon it will be cold enough for icicles to form.

Soon, the bus will start.

Soon, she will know.

She is not sure when she falls asleep, but she awakes with a jolt and looks around her, confused. _Don't fall asleep, _she warns herself, her slanted green eyes widened with alarm. _Don't fall asleep. Not here. _

It is a hard temptation to resist. She has been travelling for thirty-six hours already, without sleeping-and before that, she had also had little rest. Too much work, too many threats to quell. It is warm and comfortable on the bus. Her thickly-lashed eyelids begin to slide shut again, and she shakes herself. _Don't fall asleep. Not here. _She reminds herself of the last time she had slept, the state of the mattress afterward. Waking up to find her first imbedded deeply in the innards of the padding.

The backing of the seat ahead of her is about four inches thick-and each of the shiny metal claws housed in her forearms is about _six_ inches long. They eject automatically when she sleeps-when the nightmares come. Nothing will stop them, and she can't allow this to happen here in the bus.

They would make her leave before reaching her destination.

She _must_ know.

Forcing her eyes open, she concentrates on memorization, on inventorying the skills and knowledge she can currently recall.

International police procedures. UN decrees. Sabotage methods. One hundred methods of torture.

Forty-five ways to kill without leaving a trace.

She lingers on the last thought. She has since thought of this as forty-six ways, since she had inadvertently added a method about a month ago. It had been too effective to ignore. Too profitable. With silent satisfaction she thinks of the bank notes she'd added to her collection. English pounds, thousands of them, to do a clean and untraceable job.

Sometimes she wonders if she would do it for free. If they told her to.

They? Her customers-her clients. The men who approach her in alleyways, who put their lips against her ear and whisper tales of gore, tell her about people that need to die. Death is her gift, or so she has been told. Sometimes these men want her in other ways, and sometimes she lets them.

If they catch her right after a kill.

Her eyes slide back to the letter in her lap. _Come and find me. _

Does this James Logan Howlett know, exactly, what he is asking? Inviting her presence. Risking her presence, her gift of death that trails behind her-and ahead of her, in a wide arc. She wonders briefly if she will kill this Howlett man, when she has received her answers. No doubt he will want something of her-a service-in exchange, if he even _has _answers. It may well be just a trap.

She tilts her head. Why even question it? She _knows_ she will kill him. The only question is when, and how. Her knuckles itch vaguely at the thought of carving, of separating, of deconstructing. Her nostrils can almost smell the blood. It has been too long since she used her claws to kill.

Her eyes slide closed, and suddenly she is asleep.

The dreams come.

**...**

The girl looks at the bus full of people, her features blank as she takes in the splatters of blood. She purses her lips, then retracts the shining blades between her fingers. Her eyebrows draw together. A tinge of remorse strikes her-there was a child near the front.

This is not right.

These people were innocents.

"I'm sorry," she says aloud.

No one answers, and she hadn't expected them to. Her senses are superb, and the only heartbeat on this bus of thirty people is her own.

She shoulders her back pack, then turns and walks down the bus's front steps, pushing the door out of her way, then jumping onto the dusty grass a foot below. _Thud! _

Looking around in either direction, she sees that they are in the middle of no where, with long plains that go on forever. Her dark hair flows slightly in the breeze, the sides of her leather bomber jacket flap ligtly. She purses her darkly painted lips again.

Then she begins to walk, leaving the bus behind.

She walks for a long time, through the night and well into the next day. After a time she reaches a town, and enters the McDonald's restaurant and uses the restroom. Looking in the mirror as she scrubs remainders of blood from under her black-painted fingernails, she notes the slight bags of exhaustion under her eyes, and notes that she looks thin.

Perhaps she should eat something. When was the last time she'd eaten?

_Fourteen days ago, _her mind whispers.

She is alarmed, actually stopping her actions. After a moment she reaches under the flaps of her jacket and raises her shirt. Her ribs stand out, in heavy contrast.

The shirt slips out of her grasp, and she lets it fall, then turns off the tap, unsettled. She has never forgotten to eat for so long before. Or drink-the last she'd had to drink was a bottle of water, on the bus...about two days ago. _This is insufficient. _She picks up her back pack from the floor, heads out into the restaurant and into the line-up.

**...**

The burgers take little time to consume, and the liquids cause her stomach to cramp for a few moments. When she finishes, she leans back in the chair and closes her eyes. She feels emptier than before, somehow, as if the food has utterly failed to fill her.

_Sleep. _

Too risky. The authorities will be seeking the murderer. But...if she does not rest, this will only happen again. Perhaps it would be better to stay at a motel for the night. Regenerate. Yes.

She nods to herself slowly, as if in agreement. After a few moments she crumples the napkin she is holding, gets up and takes her tray to the garbage. Shouldering her back pack, she heads for the door of the restaurant, her heavy-soled boots clunking on the tile floor.

They leave dark-brown footprints, that on first inspection appear to be mud. If one were to look closer, however, the substance is more of a reddish-brown. A rusty color.

Dried, congealed blood.


	2. Chapter 2

**_ANNOUNCEMENT: _**Two new stories-_Like a Boss: Tainted Love _and _We're in This Together Now, _along with the update wave! Enjoy! :o)

_**A/N: **_Thank you for the great reviews! 3

**-2-  
><strong>

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><p>She is here.<p>

She is captivated. Between her and the building are large expanses of snow, and ahead of her is a long, gravel driveway. A light breeze moves her hair around her pale, gaunt face, giving her a wraith-like effect. Her eyebrows arch as she scans the property for signs of life.

It looks dead.

She knows it is not. She knows that-somehow-this is a secret base for mutants. The tiny, derelict building in the center is but a decoy, meant to cause the instinctive reaction to leave.

She will not leave until she gets what she came for, and until whoever inhabits the real building drowns in their own blood for daring to contact her, to call her to them. He and everyone else will die.

Her expression hardens, and she takes her first step toward the building, her eyes focused in a fiery manner on its door. She analyzes the construct, and devises a number of ways to try to gain entry, but in the end decides on the simplest-knocking on the door with her knuckles.

Nothing happens. She tilts her head, pauses. _Snff. _

"I would not do that," she says out loud. Her voice is low and husky. "If I were you."

No answer.

"All of the weapons in the world cannot harm me." She turns around and surveys the landscape; empty grass. "Even if they are invisible" Suddenly, she reaches out into midair and seizes something. There is a sound-a yelp-and then her seemingly empty fist waves back and forth in the air, as the something tries to free itself.

"You will fail. Reveal yourself."

_**"LEMME GO!" **_a girl's voice squeals.

"Reveal yourself," she commands again.

Slowly, a figure appears, as if paint is being poured over an invisible model. The person is a girl, about _her_age, with dark skin, broad features, and dreadlocked hair. She scowls.

"Now _let me go!"_ she shouts.

The pale-skinned girl lets the wrist slip through her fingers. "Who are you?"

"I'm nobody," she replies.

"You are obviously someone." The other girl glares. "Clarify your identity, _now._"

After a moment, the girl-disappears. Not just from view, but from all of her senses. She grabs at the air, startled and confused, then retracts her hand, wary. Her instincts tell her that she is about to be attacked, and there is an underlying note of fear: there is nothing she can do to defend herself.

_There. _She can hear it-a vibration in the distance, coming from...she frowns, and looks _up, _since her feet do not sense approaching motion through bone conduction.

She has much less time to react than she thinks.

_**VRRRM! **_She is yanked off the ground, twisted into the air in what seems to be a green tornado, and then is brought upwards to look her captor in the eye. _**"RELEASE ME!" **_she bellows.

"No." The responding voice is calm and decidedly male. She stops struggling and examines him with narrowed eyes, then pops her claws-_**SNIKT!**_

This will make him listen.

It doesn't. His eyes don't even widen in surprise, just glare at her accusingly. As if she is responsible for some personal misfortune on his part.

He speaks through gritted teeth. "Your claws don't scare me anymore, Laura."

Time seems to stop.

"What did you-" she asks.

"I've been waiting for this for a _really_long time," he says, and a moment later she is crashing through a heavily wooded forest, unable to stop, unable to protect herself. It is like being flayed alive.

It is pure agony.

When she finally slides to a stop in the snow, she lies on her back and tries to catch her steamy breath. It is difficult. She glances down and sees a mass of blood on her abdomen, and what looks like a white stick poking out-a rib. She closes her eyes, then jabs at the wound._** SNAP!**_

The vibration is near her ears now, and she looks up to see the man bending over her, surrounded in the same green cloud as earlier. "That's not even the start of what I'm going to do to you," he says, his upper lip curled. "You piece of shit."

_**SNIKT! **_She prepares to attack but finds that her arms and neck are pinned to the ground.

"_Ptoo_." As he spits on her face.

She blinks. No one has _ever_ shown her this much disrespect, and lived. Her fists tighten into balls of anger, her claws yearning to plow through his unworthy innards.

"That's right." He folds his arms-and suddenly she notices that he doesn't have hands. Well, not real ones, at any rate-they are metal, and clearly not connected to the ends of his wrists. "I'm not turning you over to Logan till I'm _done_. Since the first time clearly wasn't enough."

She lies on her back and looks up at him, breathing hard and fast. "Who are you?" she demands

finally, her voice very low and carefully enunciated.

She's angry.

"Someone you pissed off _very_ badly." He unfolds his arms, and she sees that his metal fingers are also balled into fists now. "Once upon a time."

"Identify yourself," she orders.

"You're in no position to be making demands just now." He glares at her. "I can't decide what I want to do first. I want it to be as painful as possible. Maybe I'll skin you-"

_**BLINK!**_

"Hellion, back off."

The man standing above her turns, and the hatred goes out of his expression like someone turning off a lamp. He looks...duller, somehow. Tired.

"But-"

"That's an order."

She can't see the other person he is talking to, but the voice is deep and sandy-and male. Older. She inhales through her nose-_snff. _

The scents that meet her nostrils are surprisingly...familiar. She blinks.

"Keller, you know she's not herself." The man pauses. "Let it go, kid. Let _her_ go."

A few moments pass, then the younger man releases her. She springs up into a sitting position, and in moments is on her feet, crouching, preparing to attack.

"Hold it," the older man says.

She narrows her eyes. He looks scruffy, with a weather-beaten face, and heavy sideburns. His hair-black-is slicked back into two points at either side of his head. He has light blue eyes set in high cheekbones. He looks defeated, old and careworn.

"You really don't remember anything?" he asks her, his voice softer.

She watches them warily, the two men. The younger one also has black hair, but his features are different, softer and more youthful. His eyes are a bright shade of blue, almost neon. The expression on _his_ face is more energetic, and she can sense hatred rolling off him in waves.

When she inhales deeply, she can see 'scent images'-almost an extra kind of vision. People tend to take on colors according to her focus, and their mood. The deeper breath she takes now reveals the older man to be a blue hue, while the younger man is glowing a bright red-gold.

Like he is her target.

_Am I supposed to kill him? _she wonders.

"I promised you some answers," the older man says, crouching down to see eye-to-eye with her. "You'll get them. First off...what do _you_ remember?"

She freezes.

"Laura...I can't help you if you won't help yourself," he adds.

She watches him distrustfully. "Why do you keep calling me that?" she asks.

The older man closes his eyes. "You see?" he says.

"I'm not convinced," the man in the background says, folding his arms again. "She could be lying."

"She ain't." The older man taps his nose. "I can tell you that much."

Her eyes shift to the younger man's face, studying his reaction. There is none. He still looks and smells of fury, and intent to harm-or kill.

"He wants to kill me," she says.

The older man opens his eyes. "Don't mind him. Laura...I'm callin' you that because that's your name...the name your mother gave you."

Her eyebrows draw together. "I don't have a mother."

"Not anymore. But you did, once." The man pauses. "My name is Logan, kid. I'm your father."

"What the-" the younger man says, in the background.

"Shut up." Logan pauses. "That's Julian, your-"

"Ex-friend," Julian cuts in.

"Heh." The older man looks amused by something. "Fair enough, Keller. Laura...why don't we go inside and get you cleaned up? We have quite a bit of talkin' to do, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

She pauses. "Stop calling me Laura."

Logan raises his eyebrows. "What would you rather be called?"

"I don't have a name." She bares her teeth.

"Whatever," Julian says in the background. "Logan-c'mon. I've been plotting the kicking of her ass for the last five _years._ Ever since...well, you know. You can't deny me."

"If you have to kick anyone's ass here, kick mine," Logan replies. "I'm more responsible than _she _is." He pauses. "Or kick _their _ass. But she's not to blame, and you know that."

Julian scowls, and looks at her again. Moves forward slightly.

"You see _these?_" he demands, crouching down and holding his hands up.

She looks at them blankly.

"_You_ did this to me." His eyes narrow. "Words can't describe how much I hate you."

Silence. Then... "I should have finished the job," she says coldly.

_**"KELLER!" **_Logan roars, grabbing at his arm as his eyes begin to glow. "She's _**NOT **_herself! You go back to base _right_ the fuck now-you understand?"

Julian hits her with what seems to be a ball of energy-slamming her into the muddy ground with the force of what seems to be a cannonball-and then he's gone, the snow whirling around him. Seconds later there is an enormous _**CRACK! **_that resounds off the trees nearby.

She recovers for a moment, recovers the air that had been expelled from her lungs. "He disobeyed you."

Logan doesn't answer.

"You should kill him," she adds. "Or I will. Slowly, and-"

He shrugs. "Sorry, Laura. I know this is confusin' to you...but he's got a real chip on his shoulder, where you're involved. Surprised he listened to me at all."

She sits up again, and brushes her front off. "Stop calling me that."

"Sorry, kid...that's who you are." Logan extends his hand to help her up, which she ignores, rising to her feet in a fluid, practices movement.

"No, I am not. I don't know what you are talking about. I have never seen you-any of you-before."

"Let's go back to base," the older man says. "Like I said, we got _ a lot _to talk about."

"I do not want to go _anywhere_ with you." She glares at him. "I was attacked by your people. My life was threatened. I have no wish to enter whatever trap is waiting for me."

"There's no trap." Logan pauses. "I meant what I said. You're my daughter, Laura...I got to help you. You were hurt, real bad. And you're not who you were-once."

"I do not feel damaged," she says, then scowls. "Other than for that man's futile attempt at my life."

"Wouldn't call it all that futile," Logan comments lightly. "Kid's learned some stuff since you last met him. I'm not saying he's perfect...and I'm not about to tell him this...but I wouldn't want to be his enemy."

She says nothing.

"Trust me-you used to be someone else." Logan grins, sadly. "You were one of _us._"

"Never." She glares at him again. "I would never join such an organization."

"Yet you did." The older man runs a hand through his hair. "You started out as a killin' machine someone made. But you grew. You chose your own path. You were an X-man, before that all went to crap. You had a _life_ with us, Laura, you had friends and family and-"

"_**NEVER!" **_She explodes. "I would _never_ be one of you. I work alone, and I am the best at what I do. And what I do-"

"-isn't very nice." Logan grins again, in a sad way. "Where've I heard that before?"

She falls silent.

"I can't let you loose again," he says, his voice falling several octaves. "Here's the score. Two choices for you. You can either come with me, and try it my way...or you can choose not to."

"And if I choose the second?" she asks, her lip curling.

"I'll have to kill you, half-pint," Logan says gently.

It starts snowing again.

"You cannot kill me," she says. "No one can."

"Everyone dies at some point, Laura," he replies. "Look into yourself. Are you happy with the life you're leading now?"

Her expression hardens. "That is not your business."

"Yes it is." Logan makes fists-_**SNIKT! **_

She stares. Six familiar-looking blades have emerged between his knuckles.

"Your choice, sweetheart...but I'm warning you-"

_**SNIKT! **_as her claws pop-out. She is airborne, teeth bared, hair flying. The impact is thunderous, and the following sounds of battle echo amongst the trees. _**SNAP! CRUNCH! CLACK! CLACK! SHINK! SHLUNK!**_

"_Ugh!" _she cries, as her arm is severed at the shoulder, and falls to the ground, the fingers twitching as the commands to move it fade. She falls to her knees, her fingers holding the wound, and she looks up at Logan uncertainly.

"It's still your choice, Laura," he says gently.

_**SHLLLINK! **_as she jams her remaining claws into the side of his knee, seeking to sever his leg.

_**"RRRAWWGG!" **_Logan roars, throwing his head back. Her eyes widen-her claws encounter an unyielding force. Before she can even think about maneuvering them, she is hurled back into the trees with a vicious, well-aimed kick to her chest.

_**CRACK! **_as she hits the trunk. A rain of snow falls onto her face, and she splutters.

"Son of a _bitch,_" Logan grunts. "Not going to lie. That fuckin' _hurt._"

"Why-" she shakes snow off of her face. "I could not cut."

"You won't be able to." Logan grins. "My bones are coated in the same material as your claws."

"Adamantium." She closes her eyes. "You have a healing factor."

"What gave it away?"

"You could not survive such a procedure otherwise." She gets to her feet. "I am at a disadvantage."

Logan watches her carefully.

"That also means that I am faster." She begins to run straight at him, grabs her arm on the ground, dodges at last moment and heads up a tree, disappearing before the older man can even blink. She knows this battle is lost for her-at the moment. She needs to escape. She needs to-

Her thought cuts off as she emerges at the top of the tree, to come eye-to-eye with the younger man of earlier.

_Julian, _her mind whispers.

He doesn't look happy to see her.

"I-" she starts, her face paling, her hand holding her other arm against her shoulder as it heals.

"Logan down there is all about second chances, and repenting...and that kind of happy shit," he says darkly. "But lucky for him, I'm not. I knew his little exercise with you had no chance in hell of working."

"I-" she starts again. She was not prepared for him to have stuck around.

"Say hi to China for me, bitch."

_**VRRRM!**_

Her last clear thought is that the sky looks...green.


End file.
